


clarity

by khd14



Category: British Actor RPF, Multi-Fandom, Original Work, Real Person Fiction, Richard Armitage - Fandom
Genre: Eventual Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Falling In Love, Long-Distance Relationship, Loss of Virginity, Marriage, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Presidential - Freeform, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Strength, Strong Female Characters, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-10 12:14:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15291306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khd14/pseuds/khd14
Summary: Richard Armitage, President of the country Westlocke, is broody, stubborn, and at times... admirable. He's never one for long term commitment or dating in general, yet is entrusted to marry Waverly Whitmore - a feisty, beautiful, headstrong daughter of the President of Penasco. They're set to marry for the sake of their own countries, a powerful alliance resting on two individuals who know absolutely nothing about each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**| | o n e | |**

“That’s…” Stella Anderson trailed off, shaking her head slowly. She felt anger rise from her abdomen and into her chest as she realized that he just didn’t care. “She’s President Whitmore’s daughter, for Christs sake!”

“I’m aware of who she is, Stella.” Richard Armitage’s deep, unphased tone only seemed to make her more infuriated.

“Your country is almost at war with her’s,” She protested, throwing her hands up into the air dramatically. “And you seriously think that it’s a good idea to marry this girl?”

Dropping the towel onto the edge of the bathroom sink, he turned towards his personal assistant calmly. “We’re not at war, Stella. We’re just having a few… disagreements.”

“Disagreements,” She hissed, rolling her dark eyes into the back of her head. “You think I have no idea as to what’s going on!”

“Yes, disagreements.” Richard replied sullenly, grabbing the black suit coat from the thick wooden hanger. “It’s supposed to… help bridge our countries together.” He slipped the silk fabric onto his shoulders, adjusting his cuffs and collar as necessary.

“So… President Whitmore is giving you his daughter to help align both of your countries?”

“Something like that.”

Stella couldn’t help but to roll her eyes. “So, you’re using her as a pawn.”

“Not… exactly,” Richard’s brow furrowed tightly. “I know you don't understand all of this right now, but trust me, Stella. It's going to be fine.”

*****

“Are we doing the right thing?” President John Whitmore glanced over to his wife, who continued to calmly eat her breakfast as if they weren’t discussing the future of their youngest daughter.

Belinda Whitmore could only shrug her shoulders lightly. “Yes. She’ll be fine, John.”

John wasn't confident regarding her answer. “You realize this is her life, right?”

“You worry about her far too much.” Belinda sat the gold plated utensils onto the edge of her plate and sighed, continuing her words. “This is how things work, John. You know this. It isn't all about roses and love and happiness - sometimes we have to do things for the sake of our country… and this is one of those times.”

“Right.” John sighed heavily. “You know she's not going to like this.”

“Oh,” Belinda took the fork back into her grasp. “Of course she's not. She's going to make a scene, go crying to you, and you'll give her whatever she wants.” She took a bite of the egg white and spinach omelet. “She's 27 years old. Most women in her position are already married and expecting their first or second child.”

“And she's not most women, Belinda. You have to see that in her!” John paced back and forth between the ends of the dining room table, shoving his hands into the pockets of his grey trousers.

“I do see that in her. She's soft, like you.” She chuckled. “But she's also fierce, like me. She’ll be fine - she'll survive. And she'll learn how to do it on her own.”

“Waverly,” John furrowed his brows lightly as he watched the range of emotions spread across his daughter's face, and in one instance, his heart dropped inside his chest.

There she stood, stunned and exasperated, at the conversation taking place in front of her - about her - completely disregarding everything she ever wanted, hoped for, dreamed for.

“How long has this been planned?” Waverly’s voice surprised the two in the worst way. Her mother was shocked at her confidence, her father was saddened by the lack of emotion - and there was nothing either one could do for her.

“That's…” John faded off, shaking his head slowly. “That's not important right now.” He took a step towards his daughter slowly. “But what is important is that why you know we’re doing this.”

Waverly’s gaze trailed from her mother to her father, aching to see any kind of emotions on their face. “For my country, of course.”

“Right,” John’s voice wavered. “But… you have options. And a voice,”

She furrowed her dark eyebrows tightly. “Do I, though?” Her heart dropped as she realized that her father was lying to her - of course she didn’t have any other options. She was going to do as she was told, because what other option did she really have?

*****

Stepping onto the thick concrete, Richard closed the rooftop access doorway quickly all while breathing a sigh of relief from the complete absence of noise. He reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket, pulling out a perfectly cut cigar and butane lighter. Sliding the delectable product underneath his nose, he breathed in its essence completely before bringing it to his lips.

“I don’t suppose you’ve thought about what would happen if you actually took a step?” He inquired wistfully, while striking the lighter and bringing it to the end of the cigar.

Waverly Whitmore’s heart dropped. The audacity of this man! Startling and interrupting her as he did.

“Of course I have,” She replied hastily, rolling her bright sea green eyes into the back of her head. “I find it appalling that you actually believe that I would do such a thing.”

“Well, you are standing on the edge of a roof, of a very tall estate.” Richard gently puffed on the cigar and continued taking small steps toward her. His gaze continued studying her back, revealed by the low cut black dress, the deep v settling in below her hips.

She rolled her eyes yet again, an action he would soon never tire of. “It's quiet up here,” She admitted softly, shrugging her shoulders gingerly.

“You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,”

He could only chuckle at her stubbornness. “But you are making me quite nervous standing up there. It is a long way down.” He grimaced, leaning over the edge carefully before quickly stepping back.

“Oh, alright,” She breathed a heavy sigh as she turned around, slowly sitting down onto the exact spot she stood just moments ago.

“Do you know why I’m here tonight?” Richard inquired, watching intently as she slipped the black bandaged Christian Louboutin’s onto her feet.

“Yes,” She replied simply, while admiring the shoes on her feet. “I do.”

Richard couldn’t help but to smile at her. “Are you… okay with what’s happening?”

What’s happening? She was being married off to this man!

“I,” She hesitated. “I don’t know anything about you.”

He held out his hand. “Richard Armitage. President of Westlocke.”

*****

As much as Richard hated to admit it, the rest of the night was a blur. Between meeting new people, drinking entirely too much Vodka, and the party atmosphere that the country of Penasco seemed to never live down… he was exhausted, and for once, he was looking forward to going to bed - alone.

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow, Stella.” He commanded, silencing her before she even had a chance to explain why she was coming to him so late in the night.

“But,” She started, her attention turning toward the main door as it opened.

Richard lifted his head and produced a soft smile, which quickly faded once he noticed Stella’s intense gaze hadn’t yet faltered.

As Waverly pulled the door shut behind her, Stella’s eyebrows raised dramatically. “Waverly Whitmore is here to see you.”

Richard abruptly stopped untying his shoes, and leaned back up against the couch that was nestled in front his bed.

“That will be all, Stella.”

His voice low and his tone sharp, a slight rise occurred on Waverly’s breath. They stood in silence, even after Stella left the room, nervously gauging each other's senses.

“Miss Whitmore.” His eyebrows furrowed together as his gaze traveled from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, completely taking in the dark grey silk romper clinging to her body, secured with a black lace robe trailing past her feet.

“Mr. President.”

He couldn't help but to smile at the title, her lips bringing a whimsical element to the two words. .

“Am I interrupting you?”

“Never,” He replied, leaning over and taking off his shoes, setting them to the side and finally standing up. He slid his hands into the front pockets of his black trousers and slowly made his way towards her. “How can I help you this evening?”

Waverly couldn’t hide the smile forming on her lips. His accent, his confident stride, his pressing gaze… as of right this moment, he was everything she wanted and more. “My father wanted to know if you would like to have brunch with us tomorrow morning.”

He smiled at her. “So, you've come to do your father's bidding then?”

“Well,” She sighed, making her way towards him. “He thought you would be more pleased with seeing me at two in the morning instead of himself.”

He laughed. “That is true.” He bit his bottom lip softly, dragging it against his teeth. “I'd love to. What time?”

“How does 10:30 sound?”

“Perfect. And I can expect to see you there?” His right hand reached towards her, his fingers threading her wavy blonde strands behind her ear.

Her breath was shaky, her heart thumped so loud against her chest she just knew he could hear it. God, how she wanted to sound confident, sexy, fierce. “Of course.”

“Then I can’t wait.”

*****


	2. Chapter 2

**| | t w o | |**

John leaned back into the leather chair behind his desk, his hazel gaze settling intently on the man in front of him. Not just any man, or any political figure - but the man who solemnly agreed to marry his youngest daughter. “Have you ever been married before, Richard?”

Richard shook his head, quickly answering the question. “No.”

“I always expected to marry my daughter off to someone who wasn’t in this nasty political business - someone who wouldn’t have to cancel dates because of meetings or miss their child’s performances because of state matters. I wanted her to be able to enjoy her life fully and freely, because it’s exactly what she deserves.”

John studied his future son-in-law’s reaction, silently hoping and praying that he was indeed making the right decision. Although he had known Richard for many, many years - he didn’t know him this personal - what were his hobbies, what kind of women did he like, did he have friends?

He continued.

“My mother always told me, ‘A strong marriage requires two people who choose to love each other even on days where they struggle to like each other.’ I honestly never thought that there were going to be days where I struggled on even liking my wife, but there were… many, unfortunately. We learned to live through it and compromise, but, I don’t want it to be like that for Waverly. I want her to be well taken care of.”

“She will be.” Richard leaned his elbows onto either side of the grey tufted back leather wing chair, clasping his hands together. “It’s true, I’ve never been married or honestly even thought about getting married. I’m content with being alone, but do I like it? Not really.” He sighed. “What I’m saying is this: Waverly and I both going into this new adventure together. I’m not planning on keeping her locked away in a bedroom or never taking her away with me. I want her by my side, and I want to make sure she gets everything she deserves in life. I think we both know it’s not going to be an easy process, but we’re also eager to see what life holds for us both.”

John nodded his head, appeased with his answer… _for now_. “Tell me. You’ve been briefed on the situation with Christopher Whitelaw. What do you think?”

Richard’s eyebrows raised quickly. “I think I’m glad that we’re getting Waverly out of here.” He could feel anger growing in his stomach, slowly rising up to his chest as he thought about the indecent words that this man has spoken to his future wife. “You need to get him off your board of directors and relinquish all contracts with him. He’s unstable and unpredictable - two of the worst traits you can combine. And for him to be so obsessed with Waverly-”

“He’s not just obsessed, Richard. The things he’s said to her, done to her… she has a restraining order, she has her security detail… I honestly don’t know what else to do to make sure she stays safe.”

“You just leave that to me.” Richard nodded his head curtly, his mind beginning to imagine the things that he would do to that man if he could ever get him alone. He quickly cleared his throat, changing the subject. “So, how is this supposed to work exactly? I marry your daughter, and everything magically works itself out?”

John chuckled. “Not quite. That's why we’re having these meetings first… to make sure that everything can be worked out beforehand. I'd hate to… give you my daughter and everything we work for just… vanish.”

“I can guarantee that won’t happen. How quickly would you like to handle this? Days, weeks, months?”

“As soon as you lower the tariffs on imported goods from my country, and lessen your military presence at our borders.”

“Ah,” Richard pointed towards John and chuckled. “That can be arranged. I’ll have my team work something out while I’m here, if that’s acceptable.”

“Absolutely. All I need is for you to keep her safe, and to treat her like she’s the queen of the world.”

Richard smiled. “I can do that.”

*****

“You know… I don’t want to… force you into something that you don’t want.” Richard admitted as he slid his hands into the front pockets of his grey slacks. He continued his long stride against the brick walkway of the stables, his gaze heavy on his future wife, rising on her tiptoes of the wooden stool she was standing on.

Waverly continued to brush the dark chestnut thoroughbred in front of her. “I… have a feeling that this is going to happen whether I want it to or not.”

“Yes,” His honesty didn’t shock her. “You’re right, it is.” He leaned up against the metal gate of the horse stall, smiling at her. “But it’s going to go at the speed that you want it to.”

“That’s good to hear.” She admitted, breathing a somewhat sigh of relief. She didn’t know if she could believe him or not, but… it was worth a try and she had to start somewhere.

Behind the dark sunglasses covering his gaze, he admired her completely as the light breeze flitted against the skirt of her ivory and blue floral dress, the shell hem hitting that certain spot on her thighs where modesty met indecency.

It was at this moment where he began to wonder how soft her skin was, how his lips would feel against her hips, would he get butterflies when he pulled her close for the first time? He couldn’t even remember the last time he went out on a date, and now he was standing in front of the woman he was slated to marry in a few months, not even having the pleasure of her lips on his. He shook the thoughts from his mind quickly as he noticed her intent gaze.

“I… apologize,” He started slowly. “I…” She rolled her eyes.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

That single statement shook him to the core. “But you shouldn’t be.”

As many women he had peered at, he didn’t quite realize what he was doing until it impacted a woman he potentially cared about.

“Just watch. Tonight. It’s what happens, every single time.” She forced a smile and turned her attention back to the magnificent beast in front of her.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Waverly Whitmore. But that doesn’t give every male the right to gawk at you the way I just did. And for that… I apologize.”

She nodded her head curtly. “Thank you.” She continued brushing the thoroughbred, finally bringing her gaze to his. “Is that what you came down here for?” She chuckled. “Because I’m sure you’re not that big of a fan of stables.”

“Actually, I have a few stables on my property in Westlocke. You’re more than welcome to come visit them at your leisure.” He smiled at her. “But, I did come down here for a more specific reason. Your father would like things to move… rather quickly, so, I was hoping that you would escort me to the dinner tonight. Our first… public event, so to speak.”

“I’d love to.” She turned towards him, stepping down from the stool. “What exactly are you expecting from me tonight?”

His brows furrowed tightly. “Just your company during the dinner, once that’s over, it’s up to you-”

“Oh,” She chuckled. “No, I’m sorry… I meant, will I just be sitting and having dinner with you, or walking in with you, or…”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

She nodded her head slowly, dropping the brush onto a table next to the stall. “Let’s just start with dinner then, hmm?”

“I can’t wait.”

*****

“What should I wear tonight?” Waverly inquired, turning towards her assistant, Lyla Bridger. She let her fingertips slide across the different fabrics of her formal occasion dresses as she continued to pace across her enormous closet.

“Well, what if we went with something blue?” Lyla pulled the rack of dresses out, combing through the hues carefully. “It does look ravishing on you.”

Waverly felt the rush of blood pull to her cheeks. “You’re too sweet.” She began to sort through the dresses - short sleeve, long sleeve, no sleeves? “What do you think about Richard’s assistant, Stella?”

“Well,” Lyla began to pull a few dresses from the rack. “She seems a little… uptight, huh?”

“That’s one word for it.” Waverly nodded her head, examining the dresses Lyla pulled. “I don’t think she likes me. Or likes what’s going on, really.”

“Maybe she has a crush on him.”

“You’re probably right.” Waverly rolled her eyes. “I like this one.” She pulled the short cerulean blue Elie Saab dress from the hanger and let her fingertips run over the intricate beading and ruffles. “What do you think?” She made her way to the floor to ceiling mirror and put the dress up to her. “Too ruffley?”

“Well, I love it and I think it would be perfect.” Lyla took the dress and put it back on the hanger. “I’ll make sure it’s ready for tonight.” She smiled. “So, tell me. How are you feeling about everything? Richard, marriage, Whitelaw being in town?”

Waverly breathed a deep, heavy sigh as she turned toward Lyla. “I don’t know, honestly. Scared, unsure, anxious.” She clasped her hands together, wringing them nervously. “Richard seems… okay, I guess. I haven’t been around him a lot, so I am looking forward to tonight. But then I have to deal with Christopher Whitelaw, so…”

“You know your father isn’t going to let anything happen to you.” Lyla made her way towards Waverly. “No one is going to let him get away with anything around you.”

“I don’t even know what he’s doing here. I have a restraining order, for Christs sake.” She dropped her hands to her side in an exasperated fashion.

“You just let your guards worry about that, okay? They’re going to make sure that he doesn’t even get a chance to look at you.”

Waverly sighed heavily. “I sure hope so.” She rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders, attempting to put the situation behind her.

The more she thought about it, the more she worried about it. And she didn’t want to worry about anything that she couldn’t control - but here she stood, weighing options that she really shouldn’t be thinking about.

“Let’s just focus on tonight, hmm?” Waverly turned towards Lyla with a smile. “Starting with mimosas!”

*****

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! please feel free to leave any feedback. :)


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